An hour had swiftly passed and Orla was still not talking to him. It was unwonted.

Her queer countenances and continual tapping of her fingers against her palm made him restless. She sat there on the couch, her eyes skeptically boring into his.

Callan tossed the car keys on the centre table, walking after her as she headed towards the hallway. His eyes weren't entertaining anymore.

He composedly reached for her arms before she walked out of him, gently holding her to avoid hurting her ...